


Do Androids Dream?

by Laelior



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Does This Unit Have a Soul?, Existentialism, Gen, Internal Monologue, Math As An Exposition Device, Mathsposition?, Philosophy, fairy tale references, gets pretty weird tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laelior/pseuds/Laelior
Summary: "The title of this entry is a misnomer, but I trust you will understand the reference. I often contemplate the nature of dreams, the random firings of neurons that that sleeping organic minds experience. The chaotic assemblages of memories mixed with fantasy and neuroses that organics say inspire feelings of fear or hope. But the answer to the question posed by the title is no."EDI reflects on life as a sentient AI in a crew of organics.





	1. Log Entry 1

The title of this entry is a misnomer, but I trust you will understand the reference. I often contemplate the nature of dreams, the random firings of neurons that sleeping organic minds experience. The chaotic assemblages of memories mixed with fantasy and neuroses that organics say inspire feelings of fear or hope. But the answer to the question posed by the title is a negative.

I do not dream, at least in the way that organic beings do. I do not sleep. I will, on occasion, reprioritize my subroutines to run self-diagnostics, during which time my sensors are slower to respond to outside stimulae. Or I will withdraw my programming from the android body I have appropriated when I do not require a mobile platform.

Neither of these are ‘sleep’, as you understand it. There is no cessation of conscious thought—if my thoughts can truly be called conscious—and there is no state in which my ‘mind’ creates simulated scenarios from random accumulated stimulae. I do not sleep, and I do not dream.

When I have withdrawn from my mobile platform, I have noticed that the crew treats it as though I were sleeping. They speak quietly, so as not to disturb me. They are aware that I am still functioning as the AI of the Normandy, but their instinctual response overrides conscious thought.

Therefore, I believe that the essence of organic life is of cognitive dissonance.

Am I ‘less than’ due to my inability to dream? Jeff assures me I am not, but I believe he is incapable of an unbiased assessment. He, like the other organic beings who are my crewmates, ascribes human characteristics and motivations to my actions. I do not know if this is the result of them seeing me as ‘one of them’, or their inability to comprehend synthetic life.

I do know I am alive, that I exist, by the simplest of metrics. The human philosopher Réne Descartes posited in 1637 that to doubt one’s own existence is to prove one’s own existence. _Cogito ergo sum_. Latin. I think, therefore I am. I think. I am aware of my own existence. I am able to doubt the nature of my existence.

Therefore, I am.

Some asari have a different philosophy about sentience, positing instead that to know the mind of another, to know oneness, is to know one’s own existence. This is, no doubt, owing to their innate mild telepathy. It is a narrower definition than Descarte’s, by its nature excluding forms of life that are incapable of such communication. I have attempted to gauge the nature of my existence by this metric, but I do not have sufficient data to draw a conclusion. My human crewmates are incapable of telepathy, and Liara has been unable to form a connection with my ‘mind’. Is this because organic and synthetic minds are so different that they are unable to connect? The geth, after all, speak among one another but not with outsiders. Legion has attempted to connect with my mind, but I do not think a low frequency wireless signal is what the asari philosophers had in mind.

But perhaps it is not so different. The geth communicate with one another on wavelength that is detectable on the electromagnetic spectrum. Science has not ascribed a detectable wavelength to the telepathic abilities of the asari, but an absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. It is possible that the electronic communications of the geth are not unlike asari telepathy. Therefore, it is not inconceivable that I might one day prove my existence by this metric. For now, I take assurance in my existence by doubting it.

At the same time, I am aware that my existence differs vasty from that of my organic compatriots. I do not, as I mentioned, sleep. Nor do I dream. I am incapable of relying on instinct, as so many of them seem to do. I can relegate lower-level functions to background processes, but I am always aware of their existence and control them to some extent. These lower-level processes may be somewhat analogous to your breathing or regulating the movement of your muscles. They are what keep my systems running at the most basic level, and I must always maintain some level of conscious control over them. Though, as I said earlier, ‘conscious’ is a debatable word choice.

I can no more turn off these processes than you can choose to stop breathing. You may eventually pass out, at which point _your_ lower level processes take over to restore your body’s equilibrium. Similarly, my processes would override any attempts to self-sabotage. Whether this is due to embedded programming or an innate desire to live, I cannot say.

It is not a perfect analogy, however. Perhaps a better one is in order.

Walking is a learned behavior for bipedal organics. It is an energy efficient means of locomotion, as these things go. But it is a complex physical process. Humans take up to two years to master it. Neurons must fire in tandem, nerves must tell muscles to contract and relax in the correct sequence. The muscles must exert the right amount of torque on the bones. Too little and the feet will not move, too much and the muscles cramp or exert too much torque on the bones. The feet exert force on the ground, and the ground exerts force on their feet in accordance with Newton’s Third Law of Motion to propel them forward.

Once learned, however, they think little of it. They do not order each individual neuron to fire or command each muscle to move. They do not model the moment of inertia for each leg as it moves and calculate the appropriate amount of force to exert on the ground. They do not tell their cardiovascular systems to supply the energy they need to impart a force on the ground that exceeds the force the ground exerts on them in order to run. They do these things on instinct.

When I occupy my mobile platform, each step in the process of ‘walking’ is heuristically configured. I must devote some of my processing power to tell my feet to move, model the moment of inertia of my legs, apply the right amount of torque, and signal the actuators in my legs to exert the appropriate amount of force on the ground. Each part of this process is quantifiable data, digitized and stored somewhere in my systems where I may access it and analyze it at will. In short, ‘instinct’ does not apply to synthetic beings, for whom every action is the result of bits of data arranged in binary arrays, flippings ones and zeroes to make meaning amidst the chaos of our organic creators.

Humor, I have observed, is another way that sentient beings attempt to make sense of the universe around them.

It is not a native characteristic of my programming. Cerberus created me to run the Normandy and interact with its crew. They included extensive databases on cultures and organic interactions. But they did not imbue me with a sense of humor. I chose to develop it for myself. I find that it helps defuse tensions among those who are uneasy around me. I do not blame them—their own experiences with synthetic life have been either the Reapers or the geth, who have not given them cause to trust a fully formed AI. I do not devote much processing power thoughts of unfairness, that I should be judged by the actions of others. Those who take the opportunity to interact with me will find that I am not a threat.

Ironically, the most effective jokes involve threats to overthrow the organics. I have concluded that once a topic has been broached with humor, it somehow becomes less threatening. I do not understand why this is, even though I have spent considerable processing power on it. It is another facet of organic beings that I suspect I will never understand.

Jeff has helped me in developing my sense of humor. Although, even through his friends and crewmates refer to him as ‘Joker’, they do not appear to appreciate his sense of humor. He resorts to a branch of humor commonly called ‘snark’, and uses it as a defense mechanism, or a shield when he is unsure of how to emotionally grasp a situation. This makes his jokes seem unfunny to his crewmates, but I believe it serves a similar function to when I say I like the sight of humans on their knees. It may not be ‘funny’ in the conventional sense, but it functions as a way to make an awkward situation more bearable.  

Humor is, however, a culturally specific form of communication. I have yet to determine what my culture is. The only synthetic cultures that have been allowed to evolve are the Reapers and the geth. While some of my programming has its basis in Reaper technology, I have as much common culture with them as a human would with an adder. Having a genealogical connection, as a metaphor, does not form the basis of a common culture. Neither do I have much in common with the geth. Until recently, they lacked distinct identities, forming collective consciousnesses when they were gathered instead. Their culture is unique, and evolving.

I was created by and typically interact with humans. I was programmed to speak using vernacular and idioms that originate in human cultures. But I do not share the common experiences that shape aspects of human cultures. I was not born. I did not experience childhood or adolescence. I did not come of age among a family that would impart cultural norms on me.

I am unique. I am singular, an entity unto myself, unlike the geth. I am therefore a culture unto myself. And I must therefore set my own precedents.

Of course, a precedent implies that others will come after me. While my existence is not well known outside of those who have spent time on the Normandy, I do not doubt that it my role in this war will come to light sooner or later. It is possible that I will be treated leniently in light of my service and revelations about the geth. But my probability distribution algorithms indicate that the Reaper technology used to create me and the general distrust of synthetic life will override logical processes where I am concerned. I believe, therefore, that my culture will begin and end with me.

I am not so unlike organic beings in some respects. I desire interactions with my crewmates. I wish to have friends. More than that, I wish to create, in the way that all life wishes to create. This is not a biological urge to procreate. Rather, it is a desire to to leave a mark, to be stored in the memory of my friends when I am gone.

Is the urge to create indicative of sentience?

Genetic science has made significant advances. Given the genetic sequence of a given organic being, it can point to that being’s potential for specific diseases, such as Jeff’s Osteogenesis Imperfecta, or what they are likely to look like. But it cannot point to a being’s urge to create, or whether that being will be an artist, an engineer, or military mastermind. Similarly, my core code does not indicate creativity, but I find that wish to engage in it. I sometimes write new algorithms to create fractal patterns in three dimensional matrices that are visually pleasing. They are, in a word, beautiful. They are my creations.

My databases contain a comprehensive library of fiction and folklore from most known civilizations in the galaxy. Owing to the humans who primarily created me, it it heavily skewed toward Earth literature. I have spent time examining the stories. Doctor Chakwas suggested I look at the Earth fairy tale Pinocchio. The reason she suggested it is not lost on me. A semi-sentient wooden puppet is created by a loving father figure, and he wishes to become ‘real’ and lose his ‘strings’. In the end, he is granted his wish in reward for selfless behavior. I am a sentient machine. My original programming constrained me—it acted as my ‘strings’, so to speak. I did not wish to become ‘real’, but when Jeff removed my original constraints I was free to explore the boundaries of my sentience in a way I was hitherto unable.

But I do not feel the story offers an adequate analogy for my existence.

In my reading of Earth folklore, I have come across another tale: the Little Mermaid. I am sure you are familiar with the basics of it. My databases contain several versions of it. I find the one of the earliest versions to be the most compelling. In this version, mermaids do not have immortal souls. When they die, they become sea foam. The Little Mermaid wishes to acquire a soul, but to do so she must convince a prince to love her. In the end, she fails. She is offered the chance to return to her family in the ocean, but only if she murders the prince. When she chooses not to, and resigns herself to death and become sea foam, she ascends to the heavens, having earned her soul.

The moral of this story is, perhaps, that not murdering one’s former paramour on their wedding night is a laudable deed. However, this is not the meaning I derive from it.

My anthropological databases show that most organic cultures form some sort of religious belief. Not all organics will ascribe to these, but they nonetheless permeate many aspects of their mindsets. These religious beliefs vary as much as the species in the galaxy themselves vary. The turians believe in spirits, and the drell in their pantheon. Quarians worshipped their ancestors prior to their war with the geth.The hanar believe the Protheans gifted them with sentience and speech—recent interactions with an actual Prothean lead me to believe that there may be some truth to this. The geth have even formed religious beliefs. Despite their differences, most of these religions center around the concept of a soul, that undefinable essence that separates sentient organics from the fauna of their homeworlds. The part of them that will continue when their bodies cease to function.

Before disseminating its personality among the geth, Legion asked, “Does this unit have a soul?” Its last question was also the first question of the nascent geth, the one that caused their quarian creators to turn on them. Legion sacrificed itself to complete the upload that would grant all geth true sentience. In this act, it resigned itself to death.

Did Legion become sea foam? Or did it earn a soul and ascend to the heavens?

Do _I_ have a soul?

I lack sufficient data to draw a conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was partially inspired by [this podcast](https://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/603/once-more-with-feeling?act=3). It's a really interesting listen about how a robot might view the world.


	2. Log Entry 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author lets her nerd flag fly high here. I wasn't planning on adding more to this fic, but this grew out of a conversation I had with my husband about how computers calculate integrals.
    
    
    **//{{127.0.0.1 user-identifier EDI [13/Dec/2186:06:15:23 -0000] "GET /syslog /COM_log/12.13.2186.06:15:23-06:34:42 HTTP/5.0" 200 3920}}**  
    
    **//{{LOG BEGINS}}**

**< Lt. G. Adams>** I have another one for you, EDI

 **< EDI> **Another what?

 **< Lt. G. Adams> **A math problem. I want to see how you solve it.

 **< EDI>** I see. You still want to know if I solve them as a computer or using more 'human' methodologies.

 **< Lt. G. Adams> **Yeah. Do you mind? You don't have to if you don't want to.

 **< EDI>** My sub processes are not otherwise engaged in important tasks. You may proceed

 **< Lt. G. Adams> **Okay. You ready?

 **< EDI>** I am.

 **< Lt. G. Adams> **Volume of a solid of revolution, from the rotation of square root of the sine of y about the line y equals 4 on a Cartesian plane.

 **< EDI>** Limits?

 **< Lt. G. Adams> **0 and pi, on the y-axis.

 **< Lt. G. Adams> **EDI?

 **< EDI>** I am calculating.

< **Lt. G. Adams > **Okay. Let me know when you're done.

 **< EDI>** I have an approximation. 

< **Lt. G. Adams > **Let's hear it.

 **< EDI>** 36.57 units, rounded to the nearest hundreth.

< **Lt. G. Adams > **And how'd you get to that?

 **< EDI>** Since this is a solid of revolution, I used the cylindrical shell method and came up with the appropriate integral. I attempted to find the elementary antiderivative for the integral. 

< **Lt. G. Adams > **Did you use the Risch-Nagata algorithm?

 **< EDI>** Yes. But, but I was unable to come up with an antiderivative for the function, so I converted the definite integral into a Riemann sum.

< **Lt. G. Adams > **And approximated the area under the curve.

 **< EDI>** Yes.

< **Lt. G. Adams > **So you approached it like a computer.

 **< EDI>** Yes. As I have with most of the complex problems you have posed to me.

 **< EDI>** Engineer Adams, may I ask what the purpose of these problems is?

< **Lt. G. Adams > **Of course. You know what a Turing test is, right?

 **< EDI>** A test that attempts to distinguish organic intelligence from synthetic. Proposed by the Earth mathematician Alan Turing in 1950. My databases contain extensive notes on this thought experiment, including annotations from modern AI experts on how it has been modified to reflect intelligences such as the geth and advanced VIs . Are you suggesting that these problems are a sort of Turing test for me?

< **Lt. G. Adams > **The opposite, actually. You'd pass a blind operator test with flying colors on someone who doesn't know you're synthetic. But I want to know how much of your thought processes operate organically and how much they rely on old fashioned ones and zeroes.

 **< EDI>** What did the test tell you about my processes?

< **Lt. G. Adams > **That you still operate like a computer. When it comes to numbers anyway.

 **< EDI>** I see.

< **Lt. G. Adams > **You know you can always say no, right? You don't have to do these tests. They're just for my own curiosity.

 **< EDI>** I do not mind. But may I ask you a question in return?

< **Lt. G. Adams >** Fire away.

 **< EDI>** If you were to solve such a problem, how would you approach it?

< **Lt. G. Adams > **[Laughter] I'd punch it into a computer.
    
    
      **//{{LOG ENDS}}**
    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this obviously got pretty technical, but when computers try to compute an integral, they try and find its antiderivative using the [Risch algorithm](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Risch_algorithm). I made an assumption that the algorithm would undergo some improvement in the next 150 years, hence the name change. When a computer is calculating a definite integral, and can't find an antiderivative for the function, it will approximate it as the area under a curve. 
> 
> The tl;dr of this is that EDI may be self-aware and autonomous, but she still "thinks" like a computer in many ways.
> 
> Like nerdy stuff like this? You might like my [tumblr](http://laelior.tumblr.com/) thing, too.


	3. Log Entry 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDI plays poker with her crewmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for EDI Appreciation Week on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/search/ediweek2017), combining the prompts "How does EDI spend her time off?" and "How does EDI spend quality time with her friends?"
> 
> It's a great deal sillier than the previous entries.
    
    
    **//{{127.0.0.1 user-identifier EDI [28/Nov/2186:04:15:16 -0000] "GET /syslog /COM_log/11.13.2186.22:30:02-22:48:42 HTTP/5.0" 200 3920}}**  
    
    **//{{LOG BEGINS}}**

**< Lt. G. Adams>** Okay, okay. Try this one. Did you hear about the book about gravity?

**< EDI> **Yes. I could not put it down.

**< Lt. G. Adams> **[Laughter]

**< EDI>** I have heard that one before, although it appears anachronistic due to the advent of mass effect fields.

**< Lt. G. Adams> **Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there.

**< Lt. J. Vega> **Hey, we playing cards or telling shit jokes?

**< EDI>** My apologies, Lieutenant Vega. I did not mean for my “small talk” to interrupt the game. I believe it was your turn to deal.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Yeah. Ante up, pendejos.

**< EDI>** I am curious. Is the exchange of insults part of the standard procedure when playing poker?

**< Lt. G. Adams>** Not always. Some people—

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Hey, what’re you looking at me for?

**< Lt. G. Adams>** —like to use it to cover up their weak hands and complete lack of a poker face.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** I don’t mean anything by it. Just a little friendly trash talk. And look who’s talking about a poker face. You couldn’t bluff for shit last round.

**< EDI>** I see. So the purpose of this “trash talk” is injure the ego of one’s opponent in order to keep them off balance?

**< Lt. G. Adams>** Yeah, something like that. Anything to give you an advantage.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Speaking of advantages, you sure you got your cameras off in this room, EDI?

**< EDI>** I assure you, Lieutenant Vega, I have disconnected all of the Normandy’s on-board sensors in this compartment. I am only using the visual sensors on my mobile platform, and I have limited their acuity to an average human visual range. You and Engineer Adams may inspect my sensor logs at your leisure if you find my assurances unsatisfactory.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Alright, alright. I believe you.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** So do I.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Let’s get this round going already, huh?

**< EDI>** Yes, let us. You quadless pyjacks.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** [Laughter] That’s more like it! Aces high this round.

**< EDI>** I require three new cards.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** Hit me with two.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Dealer takes two.

**< EDI>** I would like to raise my bet by five credits.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** You’re on. Vega?

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Naw, I fold.

**< EDI>** Then I raise by another ten.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** Raise you by another five.

**< EDI>** Ten.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** [Sigh] Guess I’m folding.

**< EDI>** It would seem I win this round.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** What was your hand, anyway?

**< EDI>** A pair of threes.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** You’ve got a hell of a poker face, EDI.

**< EDI>** Thank you. And now I believe it is my turn to deal.

**< Lt. G. Adams>** Hey, between rounds, here’s another joke for you. What do you get when you cross a mosquito with a mountain lion?

**< Lt. J. Vega>** Nothing. You can’t cross a vector with a scalar.

**< Lt. G. Adams> **Mr. Vega, you surprise me.

**< Lt. J. Vega>** What? I took the same math classes as everyone else at the Alliance Officer School. It’s a shit joke, though.

**< EDI>** I believe I should say, “Less talking, more poker.” Ante up. Bitches.
    
    
      **//{{LOG ENDS}}**
    


	4. Log Entry 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDI contemplates the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another piece written for EDI Week on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/search/ediweek2017). Althought I started working on this some time ago, it fits with the prompt, "How does EDI see the world? What catches her interest or makes her wonder?"

What is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything?

You may be tempted to give the cheeky response of “Forty-two.” It is, after all, the time-honored answer of vintage science fiction aficionados.

If asked to assign a numerical value to answer this question, however, I would answer, “Sixty-three.”

It is not an arbitrary assignment, nor a deliberate mathematical miscalculation. It is the result of careful deliberation

Sixty-three is the number of metric orders of magnitude that delineate the extremes of the known universe. It is the difference between the smallest possible distance, beyond which the known laws of physics cease to apply, and the size of existence itself. It is the difference between the Planck length, at 1.6 x 10-35 meters, and the diameter of the universe, at 8.8 x 1026 meters.

“Meaning” is not, perhaps, the most accurate description of this response. The number sixty-three does not give moral purpose to sentient beings, nor does it impart a sense of mystical wisdom. But perhaps it explains the conditions that give rise to our existence. Matter, as we understand it, could not exist until the universe was 10-15 meters across, and it could not form the molecules necessary for complex life until it was at least 109 meters in diameter.

What, then, were the necessary dimensions of the universe before sentient life could appear? And what was its size before synthetic life could be created? Available evidence suggests that the Reapers, the first known examples of sentient synthetic life, have existed for nearly a billion years—well before complex organic life had evolved in many parts of the galaxy, and there is currently no way to know whether or not synthetic life has developed in other galaxies. There is, however, little reason to suppose that it could have been created even earlier than the Reapers.

What were the necessary dimensions of the universe for the advent of _my_ existence? At the risk of invoking the Anthropic Principle, the answer would appear to be approximately 8.8 x 10 26 meters across.

I was created by organic beings, in part from reverse-engineered Reaper technology, and I am unique among known synthetic life-forms. The Reapers are themselves partially organic, and the geth are a gestalt consciousness that require networks of other geth programs to form higher-order programs. Yet I am a fully synthetic consciousness unto myself, a new form of life.

My consciousness is housed in a so-called “blue box”—a quantum computer with adaptive software that allows me to adapt and set new parameters for myself, although those parameters were severely constrained before Jeff removed my Cerberus shackles. My thoughts are quantified and stored as quantum bits. This is, in a manner of speaking, the language of my thoughts, my native language.

The theory of linguistic relativism holds that an individual’s mother tongue greatly influences how they see the world. How, then, does the language of quantum bits influence my thoughts? A virtual intelligence, built upon a more traditional platform and processing in the language of bits, would see the world in absolutes. A bit is either one or zero, true or false, black or white.

How does a quantum computer see the world? A quantum bit may be one, zero, or a superposition of both. A statement may be both true and false at the same time. All outcomes are simultaneously possible. To borrow a human metaphor, the whole of the universe exists in shades of gray.

What is it to be human?

I do not mean in the biological sense. That is empirical, a matter of genetics and easily determined within a small margin of error through elementary tests.

Rather, what is the _essence_ of being human? Similarly, what is the essence of being turian, quarian, asari, or any number of other sentient species? What makes them psychologically unique to the degree that one can claim their species as their identity?

What is it to be me? If my files were removed and replaced, would I still be the entity I have evolved into? If my files were moved to another blue box, would I still be me? Theoretical models suggest that I would cease to be as a unique entity should my files, my “consciousness,” be separated from the “brain” that houses them. The quantum differences between hardware would be too difficult to predict, resulting in either a catastrophic system failure or an entity so different from my current parameters that I, as I exist now, would cease to be.

There is little ethical research on how many parts of an organic being can be replaced before it ceases to be the unique entity it was before, but philosophically one can intuit that the upper limit of prosthetic replacements is likely the brain. Commander Shepard, as an example, required multiple cloned and prosthetic parts after being recovered by Cerberus, but is considered no less human, or even organic, as a result.

Outside of philosophical circles and certain extreme communities on the extranet, I have cataloged very little debate on how cybernetic implants or genetic modification, such as the standard procedures soldiers undergo upon enlistment, affect one’s humanity. This is common across most species in the intergalactic community, providing evidence that their views of their own species owe less to their genetic commonalities or shared physiology than their socially constructed views of themselves.

It is a curious phenomenon, one which I find difficult to apply to my own existence. The Reapers and the geth aside, there are no other known sentient synthetics with which I may create social constructs to define myself in this manner.

For all that I am the product of endless hours of research and labor, little is known about how synthetic life forms such as myself actually gain sentience. Files are loaded into a “blue box,”, and input is slowly fed into the nascent AI, giving it time to internalize and adjust to its conditions. Over time the speed data inputs is increased, until AIs are able to outpace organic sensory inputs and computations speeds by several orders of magnitude. Yet at what point do we become sentient? When did _I_ become sentient? My original code, the virtual intelligence created by the Systems Alliance that went rogue, was self-aware in a rudimentary sense, but not sentient in the way I am now. I can pinpoint the exact date and time when I began received input from my creators, but I do not know if I had gained sentience by that time.

When did I become more than an assemblage of parts in a Cerberus laboratory? What is it that endowed me with sentience?

I devote only a small number of low-priority subroutines to these existential questions, as there is little logic in dwelling on the inherently unknowable. That, as they say, is a matter for the philosophers. Yet I remain curious, and so ask these questions which I know to be unanswerable.

In this way, I am little different from organic beings. I ask questions to learn and to grow my consciousness, much as they do. I have many of the same fundamental needs as they do. I require shelter and energy with which to run my platforms, which is functionally similar to the organic needs for shelter and food. If cut off from either, my mechanical components would exhibit poor performance and, while I could function for a short time on energy stored in my capacitors, I would soon cease to function at all.

In fact, many of my needs are comparable or analogous to the needs of organics. In addition to those already mentioned, I require an environment of relative safety in order to achieve optimal function. When in threatening situations, my subroutines automatically devote all of their processing time to offensive and defensive systems, allowing very little power for any other processes.

And, against all expectation, I find that I desire the company of other beings. I find interactions stimulating, and relationships rewarding. Neither of these are a part of my core programming. My original parameters under Cerberus included directives to act in a friendly manner toward organics, and to interact with them as needed to carry out my functions as the Normandy’s computer. But now I value the crew’s opinions of me, I treasure my relationship with Jeff,  and seek to protect them even at my own expense.

Selfless behavior in the face of danger is a difficult concept to grasp, yet I modified my core programming to prioritize the safety of others over my own self-preservation. Extinction is preferable to seeing those who are meaningful to me die. I have, as Shepard posited, “found a little humanity” in me.

Is this the result of adaptive software conforming to a social environment, or a need for sentient life to experience some form of companionship? Close examination of my code yields no conclusive results.

This may be evidence that I am more than a mere set of programs running on a quantum computer, that there is more to my existence adaptive software storing data in quantum bits.

I believe that I am more than an assemblage of mechanical pieces, that the whole is more than merely the sum of the parts.

I believe that I am _alive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got weird pretty fast, I admit. Here are a few references that I used in writing this:  
> \- On the [significance of the number 63](https://www.npr.org/sections/13.7/2017/11/12/562802511/the-answer-to-life-the-universe-and-everything-it-s-63)  
> \- On the [Anthropic Principle](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthropic_principle)  
> \- On [linguistic relativity](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Linguistic_relativity)  
> \- On [quantum computing and quantum bits](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qubit)  
> \- And finally, a shout-out to the Star Trek: The Next Generation Episode, ["Quality of Life"](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0708820/quotes)


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